THE
LOST CAVALRY – Low-Fi Fayre @ Patrick’s Harvist, Kensal Rise, London
NW10, 9th May – Patrick’s Harvist is a rather vibrant and inviting new
cafe, venue and gallery space that you’ll find on Chamberlayne Road over
in Kensal Rise, North West London. Today is the first Low-fi Fayre and
the weather has let everyone down for the Saturday afternoon event, the
outdoor part of the fayre has been chased inside by the rain and the unseasonal
cold, where did that come from? The London weather has been good for ages,
see what happens when you let the Tories in! There’s affordable art, there’s
colourful paint, craft, all kinds of handmade creativity, vintage treasure,
glorious shoes and more on sale in the crowded gallery space downstairs.
Upstairs in the cafe area, backs to the big glass corner cafe windows,
in full view of the afternoon traffic waiting at the crossroad lights,
a cramped-in Lost Cavalry are playing – they’re an instant delight. Their
x factor comes in the form of bright chimes of melodica and glokenspiel,
that and simple acoustic songs that glow with such charm. This isn’t the
band in full flow, no real space for drums for this afternoon show, no
real problem, the cleverly brushed snare is a delight. What we get is a
beguiling set of crafted alternative indie folk tunes, acoustic smiles
and people munching impressive looking cakes while the band treat us to
some rather fine songs. The Lost Cavalry are the new project of one time
Fanfarlo guitarist Mark West, there’s five of them taking over a corner
of the cafe (a much welcome new space over here in this relatively art-free
area of London). The Lost Cavalry really are a delight, their songs are
uncluttered gems, they’re doing something a little different, not just
another bunch of indie heads turned alt.folk band, they fit perfectly with
the spirit of the day, the cakes the crafted art and the all round friendly
atmosphere of the space.... A new band to us and one to go check out some
more... a charming delight of a band (and a day.). - www.myspace.com/thelostcavalryx

NO:ID FESTIVAL DAY 1
– RUDE MECHANICALS, COUNTRY DIRT – The Others, Stoke Newington, London
– 16th April ‘10 - The Others isn’t your conventional rock venue, no, tonight
we’re upstairs, above a 70’s looking snooker hall in some kind of DIY community
space. No stage as such, bands down one end, on the floor, old armchairs
scattered around, friendly space, relaxed atmosphere, boundaries blurred,
where does band end and audience start? Slight air of chaos and punk rock,
the more than healthy spirit of do it yourself. We’re deep in the depths
of Stoke Newington, some kind of police incident up on the main road outside
as we head for the venue. You’ll know you’ve found the place by the broken
vintage synths chained to the wall in the stairwell.
There’s a man on stage with an electric guitar and backing tape things,
he’s arguing with his drummer, accusing him of being a stalker, his drummer
is a drum machine, the man’s name is Cornellius, he’s got songs that rip
at education, at voting, he doesn’t release CDs because they can’t be recycled
(yes they can, ask Robbie Williams, his last CD is now enjoying life as
a road in China). He’s playing with echo and effects and mostly ranting
about how kids shouldn’t be made to go to school and how people with degrees
don’t know shit, he’s annoying a lot of people... Ah yes, this is indeed
a throwback to the anarchic DIY us-and-them 80’s (and with an election
around the corner and a lot of people forgetting how life under the last
Tory regime was, we may just need a lot more of this sometime very soon).
There’s all kinds of strange people walking around in colourfully strange
dress, there’s rather home made looking art on the walls (the venue doubles
as a lo-fi art gallery that also hosts life drawing classes on Monday nights),
the art isn’t that inspiring, then again, hard to get to it amongst the
chaos of the cowgirls, the sweet dealers - “got some Dolly Mixtures here”
says the dubious looking “punk” in the wrap-around glasses as he produces
a sweaty looking plastic bag with three sticky looking sweets “five pence
each, don’t tell anyone, three for twelve pence to you”. DJ’s are spinning
cheesy 70’s/80’s disco pop alongside classic slabs of wholesome Black Sabbath,
the place fills up pretty quickly...
Somewhere through the healthy chaos and confusion, once Cornellius has
finished politely ranting and singing and telling us all we know nothing
about anything (and just about gets away with it because he does it with
an innocent smile and some harmless lefty-hippy good intention), a band
finally takes to the ‘stage’... They take to the stage from the crowd,
they appear to be called COUNTRY DIRT. She’s a star in her red stockings
and white cowboy boots, the stage is hers, the fake redneck drawl and her
talk of putting the cunt in country, you almost want the song to end so
she can get in to the teasing performance once more. The songs are
good though, countrified bluegrass, banjos, sunshine, they throw in a rather
decent Gram Parsons cover alongside what we assume are their own rather
good songs. Songs with great titles, titles like Pussy Whipped, as she
coverts around her microphone stand and makes sure you know she’s the centre
of attention. Country Dirt are fun, they have their tongues stuck firmly
in cheek as they bring a collective smile to the face of the venue, they
have some seriously good bluegrass country rock there though, they’d be
good without her, they’re excellent with her. They go down extremely well,
she’s a star in her big cowgirl hat, her name is Marieanne Hyatt..
And then a rather rotund ‘professor’ pulls a blackboard on to the ‘stage’
to have us all perform a mass sneeze and analyse how the sound forms...
pointer stick, board, all join in, while the two headed creature wanders
around the audience and things are all going a bit early days of Club Dog
(Pre Robey Wood Green Trade Union Centre sawing settees with chainsaws
days), what is the ‘professor’ on about...?
We’re here because RUDE MECHANICALS are here, always good to be
where those Rude Mechanicals are. You never quite know which Mechanicals
will be on stage, no Lynda Beast tonight, violin is played by Stanley Bad,
there’s some suggestion that they might be the same person but that really
can't be can it? The dependently colourful bass and drums of Guy Avery
and Tommy G are there anchoring it all down so well, fighting it all on
beaches armed with strings and sticks, while the sartorially elegant Cos
Chapman adds the intricate guitar. Miss Roberts out front of course, big
white wig, even bigger red dress, plumy manner of hers, English treasure...
The sound isn’t great, rough and ready DIY rather that clarity, more than
good enough to keep the frantic dancing going though - strange convulsions,
sin-eating goodness, strange English art rock and the best type of going
off and things... The stitching of a perfect musical child, angular goodness
and glorious eccentric insanity once more. You’ll need the teeth from a
crocodile’s smile, you’ll need to shout hurrah, you’ll hear bits that are
like this and that and a touch of King Crimson and poetic changes and high
tea with alien theories and they’re all here you know, watching. People
are dancing frantically, audience wigs are falling off, smiles are
as wide as those of crocodiles, Rude Mechanicals are like no one else,
their set is over before they’ve started, strange waltz times, no one quite
like these Rude Mechanicals... Cheers and chants for more, Rude Mechanicals
have the whole place with them again, no more time though, there’s more
bands yet, the evening is young, no ID needed here, just open minds and
big sin eating smiles, more bands to come but we have other places to be
tonight... The next band looked like they were going to be good,
all kinds of strange looking people heading toward the stage, looked very
much like the spirit of the night would flow on through to the early hours...We
couldn't stick around for Lonesome Cowboys from Hell and their "psycho-Country
jazz mescaline for Methodists..."

DIVORCE
@ The Stag’s Head, London, 25th March 2010 - Every now and again you happen
upon a band that makes such a first impression that subsequent dates in
the capital are obligatory. One such band that I’ve been watching for some
years, Youthmovies, were, coincidentally, playing their final London gig
the day after this, but as one journey ends, another adventure crosses
your path: Divorce were compelling from start to finish.
Underpinning the incendiary sound of this Glasgow five-piece is a tumbling
yet tight rhythm section: a churning, guttural bass that perfectly complements
the relentless, tribal pummelling of the kit. Two guitars are thrown into
the mix, and they constantly spar with each other, and while one sometimes
lays down the structure of the song, there’s always one with the free rein
to add scathing colour. The swirling, ugly/beautiful melody this creates
makes the “nae wave” tag too simplistic, but there’s no doubting the frightening
intensity of their music.
Key to this is the extraordinary voice of Sinead Youth. On their EP, there’s
a moment in Juice of Youth where she implores “Children!” with a distressed
ferocity that can’t help but deeply unsettle the listener, as if a terrible
event is unfolding before her. And anyone present tonight hearing Divorce
for the first time in any capacity, observing Sinead take to the stage
in a dress and red-ribboned hair, would have been totally unprepared for
the paint-stripping bark that emerges with impossible effortlessness, all
the more incongruous given her innocuous appearance. Towards the end of
the set the pub’s lights go out, but the band play on regardless, and the
occasional illumination from a red camera light creates an intimacy that
simply heightens the impact of the music.
Pushed for comparisons, you could place Divorce in the family tree of noise
rock, but as often as not the scratchy dissonance blossoms into psychedelic
washes of distorted guitar, and the rhythm section brings a messy kind
of discipline to what are not always straightforward arrangements. I’ve
no idea whether the fact that Divorce are four-fifths female implies some
kinship with riot grrrl ideology, but they could certainly be seen as part
of that musical lineage. And their releases so far, on vinyl and cassette
only, are clear nods to punk’s DIY ethic. Ultimately, when the music and
the spectacle are this good, does gender really matter? Quite simply, Divorce
are one of the most intense and intriguing bands to come along for a good
while. Go see ‘em. (Phil Whalley)www.myspace.com/puredivorcedx

PETER
HAMMILL Cadogan Hall, London, Jan 31st 2010

Peter Hammill deals in truth.
His voice cuts like a sword, never less than clear and sharp, his thought
processes irrisistably drawn, trapped, even, to slicing down to the bones
of reality - the really, really tough questions, the ones about time, mortality.
His recent album, Thin Air, has a stark beauty, an overall elegance
- as does the Cadogan Hall, entirely the perfect venue for a solo gig from
the Van Der Graaf Generator frontman. Hammill accompanies himself with
piano and guitar, his powerful, unmistakable voice carrying to every corner
of the room. Dressed in white, he cuts an ascetic figure as usual,
his demeanor seems more relaxed and quietly engaging than it has
as at any of his previous solo shows.
Hammill's lyrics were revolving around time and mortality even in the early
days of Van Der Graaf Generator, so the subjects of much of tonight's set
is not entirely to do with the serious heart attack he recently recovered
from - it spans his long career. There's little really morbid about his
vision, somehow its not resigned or depressed; however dark it gets, it
always seems to be driven by an insatiable curiosity about life. Oh, and
love - Hammill writes a great deal about love, and doesn't balk at describing
how it falls apart, whether through human failings or, again, the workings
of time. His sharpest words are always for himself.
There's the contradiction between being a romantic and possessing awful
clarity of vision. And he always hopes - his voice has always had an apocalyptic,
doomsayer's edge to it, yet there's always a sense that humanity, in every
sense of the word, will come through - or at least try. A healthy
proportion of tonight’s set comes from the new album, a collection of songs
and compositions that contains many of the best elements and feel from
right across a career spanning over four decades. Including the introspective
twists and turns of Faculty X and new one Stumbled.
Tonight, especially, he seems to carry that sense of hope in his voice,
an extra spark of warmth that makes Undone (a looking-back-at life
ballad, another from the new album and maybe that album’s best track) deeply
emotional and surprisingly uplifting. For all its valedictory lyrics,
however, it just makes Hammill seem younger than a lot of his peers, his
creative energy undiminished, even sharpening as the years go on.
An encore is demanded - appropriately enough, A Better Time, from
the X My Heart album – as he declares his outlook to not be as dark
as some would have it, he tells us he’s somewhere near the middle ground...
This
is the life and we’ve only time to be alive right now.. Peter leaves
us feeling rather good about everything as he thanks the standing ovation
that follows with a simple smile and leaves the sprase perfectly lit stage...
(Marina)

COLD
PUMAS @ The Lexington, LONDON, 29th Jan 2010 - In its original time
and place, punk found a kindred spirit in dub reggae. Today it’s being
genetically spliced with more promiscuous abandon. Brighton’s Cold Pumas
are part of an emerging scene of young bands swearing allegiance to the
church of punk while heretically veering off in strange directions to explore
the less obvious possibilities of the genre. The three-piece lay down a
relentless rockabilly gallop over which they layer intricate guitar parts
and just-about-audible falsetto vocals, swathed in reverb. Repetition is
the key to their impact, but the songs are too carefully worked out to
sound like a jam. They maintain a geometric grace that survives regular
shifts in gear from shoegazy softness to intense, locked-in freakout. At
their most clipped, Cold Pumas can sound a little like Foals, but once
into their stride the reference points become more eclectic: they can build
hypnotic, kraut grooves, invoke the dense atmospherics of the Jesus and
Mary Chain and the grinding energy of Ex Models. Given their love of the
rockabilly shuffle and kraut rock hypnotics, one might expect references
to The Fall, but the lack of vocals or a front man means that Cold Pumas
don’t put on a ‘show’ as such, they just play with the minimum of fuss,
more like an indie underground band than one flying the confrontational
flag of punk. But Cold Pumas are investing in the most crucial aspects
of the punk worldview: releasing music independent of moneyed interests,
and playing with like-minded bands to create a self-supporting scene. The
bands involved are intriguingly diverse – heartening evidence that punk’s
cultural value resides not in a musical formula but in an ethos. We can
only hope they continue to prosper. (Phil Whalley)

Recommendation from those with a sound ear and trusted judgement is the
gilt-edged currency of the underground, and the chatter about Poino is
starting to take on the tone of the excited speculator. It’s easy to see
why. Their first London headline slot of the year, at Dexter Bentley’s
Pub-Pop night, revealed Poino to be a lean and lithe beast of a rock band.
Singer and guitarist Gaverick de Vis is as imposing a presence as ever,
and his familiar growl lends the music an obvious comparison to his old
band, Giddy Motors. But where ‘Make It Pop’ was built on dirty, slippery
grooves, Poino are harder and more complex, driven by the sheer force of
ideas tumbling out of all three musicians. Each contributes throughout,
but they never compete for attention. The songs are heavy and generously
sprinkled with riffage, but there’s also the nuance and subtlety that betrays
careful composition. Forced to categorise, you’d locate their DNA somewhere
stateside where the rock is loud but the conversation intellectual. In
an age where bands post songs and videos before they play their local,
Poino are a rare and gladdening example of the opposite: a perfectly formed
rock band in prize-fight condition without even a demo.

Before Poino came Lime Headed Dog, another three-piece, but not a guitar
in sight. A drummer is joined by two multi-instrumentalists, and together
they make a curious noise: defiantly off-kilter, raucous and yet spacey,
and the feeling that beneath it all is a great pop tune trying to get out.
The curious marriage of an array of classical instruments with the singer’s
hi-tech equipment suggests an open-minded commitment to exploring unusual
combinations of sound and texture. In that it’s difficult to think of comparisons,
Lime Headed Dog succeed; their music has elements of twee kitchen-sink
indie, math and dance, but doesn’t sound like any of them. Invest time
in unravelling their music and the reward will be there; but to the untrained
ear, it might sail close to unfathomable indulgence.

Maria and the Mirrors serve up a terrific wedge of electro-punk – one glam
dude with a box of electronic tricks, one fop sat in a corner with a trumpet,
and two girls bashing away on the drums while their chants and wails are
drowned in a deep reverberation. Messy and tribal, Maria and the Mirrors
invoke a mid-70s collision of the Slits’ organic femme-punk with the radical
industrial noise of Faust, and yet the sheer intensity of it all makes
it entirely fresh and exciting. (Phil Whalley)

31st
JAN '10: GRAFFIK GATHERING AND ART BINS: Graffik gallery. Portobello,
West London, 28th Jan – On the eve of the Art Bin launch over at Peckham’s,
South London gallery, and for what it may or may not be worth, we’re a
million miles away over on the West side and Ladbrook Grove. Ladbrook
Grove is where art really does have both feet firmly planted on the street
– those first graff-art moves, the Westway, The Clash (all documented on
previous pages here). We really couldn’t be further away from the notion
of a Michael Landy Art Bin and all those now ageing and establishment Bright
Young Things lining up to throw their failed art away. It is an intriguing
idea, failed paintings (that still must be worth thousands on the open
market of course), treated as reverentially as always, in terms of packaging,
transport and handling, until they actually get to the bin/gallery, and
then, white gloves off and in they’re thrown. I guess everyone has a ‘failed’
piece, or a piece they’ve finally given up on, does a ‘failed’ piece ever
come to a conclusion or do you just give up on it before you reach that
point of ‘failure’? Surely a ‘failed’ piece is just an unfinished piece?
The failure to conclude? Could it have been pushed, do ‘they’ have piles
of ‘failures’ in the corner of their studios? Pieces that we never ever
get to see? And what about all the artists who never get their work out
of their studios anyway? Is that failure? All that art that no one ever
gets to see? And have the pieces really ‘failed’ if they become part of
Michael Landry’s latest (rather exciting) project anyway? Evolved rather
than failed? Some of it really is ‘rubbish’, the sight of that Damien Hurst
skull painting on canvas being dropped the thirty feet down in to the bin
was a little under-whelming, looked like a bad Metallica tribute band album
cover painted in a sixthform schoolroom artclass as it crashed down and
hit the ground... The scoffing critic dismissing Tracy Emits piece as junk
before being told who it was... Going to be ‘interesting’ to see how this
all evolves, art from failure? It can’t possible fail can it... ? Art as
spectator sport? Is that one good enough for the bin? it isn't any old
rubbish in there you know, Mr Landy clearly know what he likes (or doesn't)x

Graffik arrived in Portobello Road late Summer last year, in the old Planet
Alice place, a small shop sized gallery just up from the Westway. They’ve
already enthusiastically hosted several impressive street art style exhibitions
and events in gallery’s short lifetime - Trans 1, Loslohbros... It is more
of a permanent shop than just a gallery, there’s always new work in there,
unknowns rubbing canvas shoulders with street art names. The Graffik reputation
is quietly growing, word has spread and the welcoming little gallery has
become a rather decent friendly place to just drop in to and check out
street art flavoured creativity and such. I guess the fact that MuTate’s
One Step In The Grove happened right outside their front door late last
year helped rather a lot – lot of the artists from MuTate with small pieces
in here now, Snub 23 shields on the wall, some of the small scrapart sculpture
pieces that were in MuTate’s show. It is mostly relatively small pieces
- isn’t really the space for anything too big – small to medium pieces
of canvas art, prints... Yes there are the racks of T-shirts and Banksy
‘souvenirs’, guess they have rent to pay like the rest of us ... x

And as word has spread, has the art in Graffik evolved and swung towards
what you might call the street art mainstream? Has the maverick edge dulled
just a little as the bigger names have started to arrive and squeeze others
out? The art in here, on the whole, is really good, we’re not complaining
here, some of it sometimes seems rather obvious though, stencil ideas that
may have been seen a few times already? Few too many ‘Banksys’ churning
it out while they chase a slice? Tonight there’s a busy selection of graphic
pieces on the wall, mostly on canvas, the more adventurous on discarded
pieces of wood, old radiators, found cardboard boxes... There’s classic
pieces of Code, Snub 23, lots of really good stuff in here, but is a lot
of this just rather safe polite coffee table versions of the street art
idea? And if that is the case then is there anything wrong with that? Is
this the kind of art you simply buy, take home, put on your wall and enjoy
– is it as gloriously simple as that? Is this where street art is going?
Well in some ways yes, but with people like Roa, Blu and the excellent
Rub Candy out there, when you can feel genuinely excited by the news that
Swoon coming to town, when those Stik figures keep popping up around town
then surely things are well? Yes, all is well, the notion of street art
is still out on the street and still evolving in so many healthy ways,
there’s room for it all, the evolving scene is rather exciting right now
don’t you think...? if some of it evolves in to coffee table art to take
home and hang on your wall that’s alright isn’t it? Just as long as it
keeps evolving, as long as things stay fresh... x

So Graffik is a good place to fine art, a place alive with reasonably priced
pieces of exciting original creativity to take home and enjoy. And tonight,
Graffik a good place to meet up and this is not where the debate on the
direction of street art (or indeed art in general) should be happening,
no art bins here (although the empty donut bags have been rescued and now
have paint on them). Tonight we’re drinking beer, eating the aforementioned
donuts and meeting lots of people, exploring sketchbooks, exploring the
walls, eye constantly caught by something new, we’re having a good time.
Graffik is simply a good place to pick up impressive pieces of very skilful
graphic style street art - there’s a slice of busy manga influenced brightness
here, a new stencil piece for your toilet wall over there - contemporary
pop art, clever street art, comic book art, illustration, and most of it
very slick and graphically impressive. This maybe isn’t the place to pick
up anything that out on the edge, nothing that ‘lose’ or fine art based,
this is very much street art as graphic art territory. Are we on dangerous
ground now, when does street art become fine art? This isn’t the place
for that argument, Graffik gallery does exactly what it says on the tin,
this isn’t the place to drive arguments.. Pretty much all the work
here is of a rather high standard - impressive, photo-realistic, slick
street art, most of it is really good, most of it rather desirable. Most
of it comfortable within the environment. Kind of want a ‘fault’ or two
here or there, a jagged edge, a sense of danger, but hey, some of us like
‘accidents’, a challenge or two, the notion of out-there wild art rather
than the now rather established rules street art? Graffik is great, tonight’s
party gathering is fun. Sure there’s nothing in here in danger of being
a Michael Landry Art Bin ‘failure’ and as someone said over at MuTate the
other day, “this stuff ain’t for those artnobs”. Hang on, we’re getting
in far too deep, we’re just here to meet some people, listen to some music,
suck down a few tins of beer, enjoy some art and have some fun... x

And Graffik is pretty full when we get there, lot of friendly people in
here, people in the shop, people out back in the small yard (where the
familiar sites of a Stik boy and a Code CCTV head are on the wall somewhere
in the dark behind the bodies). There’s a DJ in the middle of the shop/gallery
area and the place is packed with art. There’s people dropping in a bringing
along beer, wine, and occasionally some art of their own. A nice big relief
piece arrives and cause a bit of a stir... There’s pieces left on the side
for others to pick up, there’s a couple of people (from the Isle Of Man)
adding small stencil pieces to the front wall of the shop (with permission).
People swapping information, ideas, news - art-makers, art-enthusiasts,
there’s a nice friendly mellow party buzz in here, people swapping pieces
of work, radio station interviews being done (Resonance FM in the house,
Create and Survive), ideas and information being swapped - good time being
had by all, good art shared... Roll on the next one, we like Graffik, if
we had the money, we’d probably spend a fortune in there... (S)

MuTATE
BRITAIN: ONE FOOT IN THE GROVE – Under The Westway, Ladbrook Grove,
West London, 8th Oct

– Now
this looked promising on the website, Mutoid Waste Company, under the Westway,
with loads of graffiti, some serious names in UK street art and yes, this
all looked very promising on line.... So we set off with a feeling excitement
and anticipation, only a walk down the road, this is our manor Tonight
is the opening night private party preview of an event that opens tomorrow
and runs throughout October. The MuTate team back for more following on
from their infamous Behind The Shutters Show, back in Ladbrook Grove and
what some of them say is their spiritual home, back with a team that includes
some of the most respected names in current UK street art, alongside, photographers,
stencil artists, paste up pieces, sculptors...

The
Mutoid Waste Company go way back with us Organs, we’ve been encountering
them and their creations pretty much since Organ first started back there
in the underground days of the 80’s. Strange vehicles parked outside places
like Club Dog, Acid Daze, racing through the dust Mad Max style at the
legendary Treeorgey
free festival, Skreech Rock, that strange squat hospital that got surrounded
by shield-banging riot police in the black of night that time (we all had
to crawl through tunnels to get out...). These days the Waste Company pop
up at what you might call more mainstream respectable events - official
parts of things like Glastonbury Trash City, California’s Burning Man,
major corporate festivals in Hyde Park, still as creative as ever though,
and good on ‘em, stick them in the real Tate or the middle of Trafalgar
Square, they deserve it all, they’re the good people doing well... X

What
were we going to get tonight though? What do the Mutoid Waste Company stand
for in 2009? Where’s street art going? Graffiti art these days is pretty
mainstream isn’t it? Bansky and all that, all been done hasn’t it? Are
we going to be drowning in celebs and champagne, the Hoxton art poseurs
heading west? Madonna and her cheque book? Brian Sewell stroking his chin
and waving his arms? No, none of that, nothing to worry about, from the
moment we get in through the big wooden building site type gates that let
us through the high wooden fence wall - graffiti-covered naturally - past
the friendly security (and the hopeful paparatzi), from the moment we walk
in this is jaw-dropping good... This is still the Mutoids on full
effect, all is well in West London...

The
old vibe is here, the place is buzziing with energy, alive with the feel
of all that 70’s Westway graffiti/punk rock history, the feel of those
old Club Dog/free festival/strange squat gig events that happened so much
in the 80’s and early 90’s before rave and dance culture changed the shape
of free festivals for ever. The heavy thumping dub coming out of the sound
system, even the crowds of people look like they’ve fallen out of some
kind of mutant page of a 2000AD comic, this is our kind of place, us Organs
feel at home. No art-pose here, this isn’t Hoxton, this isn’t the Frieze
Fair, there’s a genuine buzz of excitement in the night air alongside the
big arc lights and the strange sculptures looming out of the dark above
our heads. XX

There’s
friendly conversations struck up with strangers, old friends, giant rastas,
mohawked punks, graff writers, travellers, Notting Hill locals, geeks talking
technique, well dressed families, excited kids, they’re all here soaking
it all up in... Nearly said ‘in’ here, but we’re not quite inside
are we; we’re walled in by the wooden fence but we’re under the stars,
the moon and the giant Westway, corporate billboards are invade from the
side of buildings outside the fence, but this is a whole other world in
here. Those imposing thirty foot high Westway support pillars make this
such an atmospheric venue - the Westway pillars where some say British
street art started back somewhere around ’76, the giant flyover roadway
that dominates West London (check your Clash records, and your Hawkwind
album covers, there’s a lot of counter culture history under this roadway,
The Hall Of The Mountain Grill is just over there...). XX

Walled
in but out in the open air, Westway motorway as roof above us, tube trains
flashing by on one side (must look brilliant to the passengers whizzing
by), giant support piers acting as gallery walls... There’s some seriously
impressive pieces, big pieces, some expertly crafted graffiti art up on
those support pillars (there some seriously wasted looking artists, Snug23
tells us he’s been up for four days solid).

Straight
away you’re hit by the giant Mutoid Waste Company sculptures/vehicles –
cannibalised Royal Navy helicopters, military scrap, bits of old fighter
plane cockpits that are now bodies of strange looking metal dinosaurs.
There’s giant (and we do mean giant) robots, strange mutant motorbikes
- the Mutoid Waste Company creations are looking bigger and better than
ever, more technical now, still the spirit of those strange psychedelic
gun turret trucks parked outside the George Robey back there... The futuristic
kinetic robotic creatures made out of bits of scrap that really do grab
the most attention, giant fire breathing mechanical bull lurching at the
crowds and.... wow! There’s stunning creativity wherever you cast an eye,
this is wonderful. Giles Walker’s pole dancing robots are captivating,
how did he get them to move like that?! Carrie Reichardt (AKA The Baroness),
she of the Treatment Rooms,
is by the gate as we go in - she believes the revolution will be ceramicised,
there’s that tiled orange pick-up truck by her tile stall that you may
have seen in the Funkcutter film. X

All
around there’s impressive graffiti art battling for attention behind the
sculpture – Sickboy, Paul Insect, Inkie, Dotmasters, Zeus, Mode 2, Bleach
and many more... There’s a slightly more formal gallery area (formal for
on outdoor event underneath a motorway flyover), actually a take on the
Royal Academy Summer Exhibition, where smaller pieces of impressive sculpture
stand on plinths in front of some classic pieces of stencil art, paste
up pieces of subversion and such. Neneh Cherry is providing the food over
there...

There’s
colour and energy coming out of the darkness wherever you look, the graffiti
is far from tired, plenty of fresh creativity here, a little more than
giant names and I’ve got all the books to copy from if you know what I
mean, serious evolution – the old Banksy on the wall outside looks a little
tired (and no disrespect meant there, we’ve still got lots of time
for Banksy, easy to shoot at the popular, take art the masses we say).
Tonight’s opening was a triumph, need to go back today and take it all
in again in the cold light of day. Serious street art, proper counter culture,
genuine creative, amazing skill... Brilliant... Thank you MuTate crew,
we had a great time

MuTATE
BRITAIN: ONE FOOT IN THE GROVE runs on Friday, Saturday and Sundays throughout
October. 2pm – 10pm, under the Westway Flyover, junction of Portobello
Road and Acklam Road, London W10. Nearest Tube, Ladbrook Grove, come out
of the station, cross the road and walk along underneath the Westway –
www.mutatebritain.comXX

UP
AND DOWN THE WESTWAY...

‘When I think of the punk
years, I always think of one particular spot, just at the point where the
elevated Westway diverges from Harrow Road and pursues the line of the
Hammersmith and City tube tracks to Westbourne Park Station. From the end
of 1976, one of the stanchions holding up the Westway was emblazoned with
large graffiti which said simply, ‘The Clash’. When first sprayed the graffiti
laid a psychic boundary marker for the group – This was their manor, this
was how they saw London.’ Jon Savage ‘Punk London’ Evening Standard 1991

‘All across the town,
all across the night, everybody’s driving with full head lights, black
or white turn it on face the new religion, everybody’s sitting round watching
television, London’s burning with boredom now, London’s burning dial 999,
Up and down the Westway, in and out the lights, what a great traffic system,
it’s so bright, I can’t think of a better way to spend the night than speeding
around underneath the yellow lights.’ The Clash ‘London’s Burning’
1976 X

8th
OCT '09: ART:MuTATE BRITAIN: ONE FOOT
IN THE GROVE opened in Ladbrook Grove, West London, under the iconic
Westway last night, serious street art, frontline graffiti, scrap sculpture
and Mutoid Waste Company creations that left jaws on the floor, a triumphant
opening. The Event runs, under the Westway, just off Portobello Road in
Ladbrook Grove, West London, throughout October. It really is not to be
missed, full review and more photos up here in a bit, we’ll still recovering
from tonight’s open preview party for a bit – www.mutatebritain.com/onefootinthegrove

Is that the sun back? National
poetry day today, here comes some music talk some more art, here comes
who knows what... Still a non-stop operation... Just went to put a link
to the National Poetry Day website and hang on Camaron has jumped on that
bandwagon as well. Why is his slimy face on the front of their website?
That's ruined thingsX

7th
OCT '09: ART:MuTATE: ONE FOOT IN THE GROVE
in an art event that opens on 9th October (and runs until the 25th) under
the Westway in Ladbrook Grove, West London. (3-6 Acklam Rd, London,
W10). A 15000 square foot open air exhibition of Street Art, giant Sculpture
and Installations, fully licensed for 1250 people, underneath the West
Way Road Bridge next to Portobello Road. Here’s what they say on their
website:
Following the success of their debut show ‘Behind the Shutters’ at the
infamous Cordy House, the Mutate Britain team are pleased to announce One
Foot in the Grove, an exhibition of painting and sculpture located in the
heart of West London“For us this is a home coming,
Ladbroke Grove means a lot to Joe and I, now we’re back home to put on
a show that we hope will be remembered for its inspiring art, inclusive
atmosphere and all round good times.” Garfield Hackett
Since artists such as Futura 2000 (then touring with The Clash) and Mode
2 first painted the huge walls supporting the iconic West Way in the early
80s, they have been cited as a birthplace of British graffiti/street art
culture.
Almost 30 years later Street Art is a global artistic movement, rich with
talent, diverse aesthetic styles and momentum sustained by passion. Now
over 50 of its old school pioneers, infamous names and future masters are
back to build a show that celebrates the depth and heritage of the movement.
Expect surprise announcements to add to the mix of works by Mode 2, Matt
Small, Dr. D, Part2ism, Best Ever and too many more to mention.... Go read
the rest of this herex

Chrome Hoof are actually from outer space. I longed for a band like this
when I was a kid, obsessed equally with sci-fi and music, but after decades
of unconvincing costumes and not exactly cosmic rock (yes, I'm talking
about you, eighties Hawkwind, with your fat Elric) I can't believe someone's
actually gone and fulfilled the dream. It's that sleek and shiny
pre-'77sci-fi of Space 1999 and Barbarella and Silent Running, not the
dirt of Mos Eisley and the Nostromo, and it's done with hallucinatory purity
and authenticity. On come at least ten cowled
figures, robed in flowing mirror silver, heading for numerous instruments
including an actual harp. Let's see... two guitarists, bassist, keyboards,
violin, sax, trumpet, percussion, two backing vocalists, glittering in
stark blue light. And then this magnificent gleaming bronze Amazon stalks
onstage, ceremonial staff and all, and the whole madness makes absolute
sense, even before she opens her mouth. When the whole thing takes off,
driven by the furious disco hi-hat Of course, everyone knows
it's supposed to be high camp, but it's actually just an excuse to be glorious.
When bands play these big, sit-down arts concert halls the space and formality
can make them look like a fish out of water. Not the Hoof.
They've have embraced the space with pleasure, spread their glittering
presence right across the stage, bookending the whole shebang of extraterrestrial
violins, brass, keyboards and spectacular dancing goddess woman with two
more great dancers. In skin tight silver body suits. And not one bit of
it is extraneous.
Chrome Hoof's music has been described, several times, as disco-prog, and
there's little reason to contradict that - save that the results are more
muscular and powerful than you might think. Whilst there are signifigant
mathy moments, the core of the band is rhythm section and brothers Leo
and Milo Smee, who turn that disco hi-hat groove, normally associated with
70s chart cheesiness, into a pummeling, driving thing. Add Lola Olafisoye's
presence and vocals, and a collection of accompanying players with personalities
and massive talents of their own, and this monster of a band miraculously
gels into a coherent beast that makes absurd sense. I'm astonished
by the sheer success of their vision.Then Chrome Hoof are transmuted
into the backing band of this revered middle act, one J. P. Massiera.
It's hard to distinguish what is a Chrome Hoof composition and what's Massiera's
without prior knowledge - good on them for such a thorough acknowledgement
of their influence. So thorough, in fact, that the man himself is literally
force-marched on stage by silver-clad sirens. Producer-genius/musician
Massiera was creating unutterably bizarre records from the late sixties.
I wish I'd heard more before the gig - I've since wrapped my ears around
Phantasmes (one of the tamer of his canon, apparently... thank you prognotfrog
). It's hugely unhinged but surprisingly imaginative and technically accomplished,
veering from pop hypercheese to mad fusion, White Noise meets George Clinton
and just... oh, words fail. Just look at the cover, for a start It
explains Chrome Hoof instantly. Of course, Massiera is getting on
in years, and almost certainly engaged with the psychotropic culture of
the time during his peak, so his performance is a little uncoordinated,
but his guttural French demonic possession routine hinted at an extremely
interesting past and a massive personality. He seemed to be enjoying himself
hugely - the story is that Chrome Hoof had a week's intensive rehearsal
with him and I wonder if the whole process of finding their hero and getting
him to appear is an epic and moving tale in itself. When you start to delve
into his work, having him there makes perfect sense.
On which note: all praise to the brain behind this event. DJ Andy Votel
champions this kind of esoteric music, and truly deserves the title of
curator tonight - this is inspired bill, with Massiera neatly linking Chrome
Hoof and Magma in many ways.x

Magma open with a composition I don't know, but I have an almost overwhelming
need to hear again, now. It was as good as anything in their long-evolved
repertoire. Turns out it's (probably) called Slag Tanz (Fire Dance in Kobaian?)
and get this, it's new. Let's think about that a moment. New. Performed
to perfection, the band immaculately lit (by someone who really knows the
music) in shifting, apocalyptic supervolcano red, it's Magma at their most
menacing, revolving over an impossibly ominous, restrained riff, full of
tension and beauty. It's equally classic, unmistakable Magma, and indefinably
contemporary. On form like this, Magma really are a force of nature;
it's impossible to resist those geological metaphors describing a piece
of such restrained, implacable power.
Magma are ruled by extraordinary drummer and composer Christian Vander,
the inventor of the Kobaian language and the whole complex mythology recounted
in the band's lyrics. There's nobody quite like them, not even the
camp-followers of the Zeuhl movement the band have spawned, not even Ruins
and Koenjihyakkei (Japanese bands who sing in their own off dialect of
Kobaian). Magma's power comes directly from Stravinsky and Carl Orff
and 20th Century composers as much as rock; Vander also harnesses the energy
of choral singing, contributing his own powerful and distinctive voice
to a chorus consisting of a second male voice (in the shape of the imposing
Herve Aknin) and three female (including Stella Vander). They move
to different parts of the stage in magisterial operatic fashion as each
song progresses and the dynamics change, and when it's Christian Vander's
turn a disembodied overhead mike is brought out of the dark from behind
him, and Vander gesticulates passionately and a couple of times stands
up behind his kit. His drumming is immense - both extremely expressive
and fierce, capable of delicacy and relentless driving movement. Meanwhile,
there's the most astonishing bass lines you'll ever hear going on. Jannik
Top is no longer in the band (though he does make occasional appearances)
and bass duty is now performed by Philippe Bussonnet, taking on the technique
and compositions of the remarkable Top; if you can't see the guy's fingers,
your ears won't believe that that rippling growl is the bass guitar being
played by real fingers at sequencer speed, locked-in to Vander. Naturally,
there's a full contingent of world-class musicians here - guitar, classic
electric piano (eg Wurlitzer or Rhodes) but there has to be a special mention
for the extremely watchable vibraphone player, Benoit Alziary.
After a lyrical and gentler piece, heavy on the choral element and Fender
Rhodes, comes an absolute monster. Called Emehntehett- Re, it's from their
forthcoming new album of that name, out in early November. I hear chunks
of old works embedded in it, but I believe it's largely new, and proper
Magma, all forty-minutes plus of it, ebbing and flowing. When Stella comes
up front to sing it's one of many highlights. Once again - new!!!
People will tell you that Magma are experimental, avant, weird - all that
stuff about alien languages and epic science fiction. But that's beside
the point. What they are above all is uplifting and euphoric. They have
as much in common with raw gospel and spiritual choral music, and the elements
of danger and harshness thread through their work only to intensify the
revelatory lift of it. Whatever the complex stories Vander has constructed,
using Kobaian can also be a kind of scat singing that frees the music from
meaning and leaves all the emotion.
Visceral, beautiful, utterly unique, even danceable in places; a genuine
space opera, complete with alien grammar and mythology of Dune-like complexity,
Magma are an astonishing creative force. And they finish the show with
a performance of Magma's first composition, introduced by Stella. It's
their single Kobaia, an initially-normal cheerful sixties' pop song that
goes off somewhere most pop doesn't, and hints at things to come. They
play it because it's Kobaia's fortieth anniversary this month. Astonishing.
(M)

3rd
OCT '09: THE TUESDAY DILEMMA, MAGMA or UPSILON ACRUX? All over town
progheads are pulling themselves apart, what to do! Which gig! Who booked
the first ever Upsilon Acrux
show in London on the same night as a rare appearance in the capital from
Magma! I mean people have been waiting for Upsilon and there cutting edge
avant-prog to get over here for ages! They’ve made it from L.A at last,
they’re one of the very very best bands out there, consistently challenging
albums, prog rock time changes that’ll leave you with twisted blood, and
if that isn’t good enough they’re touring with two of the finest new prog
outfits in the UK in the shape of THE
LAZE and HONEY RIDE ME
A GOAT, but then CHROME
HOOF are opening for Magma with J.P MASSIERA also on the
bill... Two of the most exciting gigs to happen in London all year and
both on the same night. What are we going to do? The Upsilon Acrux gig
happens over at Barden's
Boudoir while Magma
are at the Barbican
Centre. I think I know which one I’m going to... maybe... Both
shows happen on Tuesday 6th October, oh the dilemma...

ART:SHOWCASE
@ CAFE 1001, Brick Lane, London, 30th Sept

- Cafe 1001 is just opposite
Rough Trade Records, over on Brick Lane, deepest East London. Showcase
happens every second Wednesday. Been happening all through the summer now
and the Showcase reputation is growing. The event - not that easy to find,
enter the cafe through the crowds sitting at the tables on the pavement,
up the stairs, head for the back and there it is, an almost secret big
room at the rear - the event is something like a very relaxed gallery opening
night, the atmosphere is vibrant, inviting, friendly and rather energetic...
Things have been building over the last few months as word of the fortnightly
event spreads and more people get involved. We reviewed one of the first
nights back at the start of Summer and suggested a little bit of quality
control might be needed, things have moved on and evolved in a rather positive
manner since then. Early shows were peppered with interesting pieces amongst
the, well, the not quite so good. Last night it was pretty much getting
near to an everything being worthy of your time situation.

Showcase is a one night only affair, things kick off at five thirty and
go on until just after eleven. A chance to view art, interact with the
creators, share thoughts, network and indeed buy very reasonably priced
pieces (or at least pick up details for future reference). The one night
only nature makes going to Showcase almost like heading out to a gig, it
is something a little different to the usual stuffiness of a more formal
gallery, things are relaxed, you can make a noise, you don’t have to politely
creep around... This is very much a gallery situation though, don’t get
the wrong idea, plenty of time and space to view without interruption or
intrusion. A gallery with a nice big bar, music (not too loud) and something
like twenty-five or so artists with a selection of work to check out. The
work is all up on big white boards in a nice big open room. The audience
is a mix of artists (both those showing and those checking things out),
friends, the usual Brick Lane fashion fiends, people just dropping in on
their way to or from East End gigs (or maybe a Brick Lane curry house).
You get the occasional passing celebrity, (I guess the organisers would
love us to mention the fact that Keira Knightley dropped in last night
and was seen enthusiastically talking to several of the artists. Don’t
ask me, I wouldn’t know a celeb if she bit me. What did she say asked several
people, none of your business, that’s between me and Keira), you got bands
dropping in, people who’ve been to Rough Trade to buy records, graffiti
kids (“You ‘da bomb man, respect to your art” yelled the skinny white kid
being thrown out by security for tagging the walls), drunk city workers
still in suites, ties rebelliously loose - you got a whole lot on different
types (makes for interesting people watching while they're busy viewing
your art actually), a constant revolving stream of colourful people all
evening....

So the Showcase reputation is building and across the board the quality
is way up now, last time it was interesting stimulating work here and there,
last night pretty much everything was worthy of further investigation...
Stand out pieces included the strange light fitting bulb holder paintings
of BLAIR ZAYE, CHRIS TIMOTHY’s
rather striking photographic montage pieces, Barcelona pop artist MIGUEL
IVORRA, SALLY SWINGEWOOD’s
vibrant work, SIMON HAWES' slightly
dark and twisted ‘Hi Kids’ childhood cartoon icons, ZARA LOCKWOOD’s imaginative
portraiture...
Looking at art on websites is really no way to view art, most of websites
do these artists no favours, vague hints is all you get, you really need
to have it there coming alive in front of you, alive in the flesh. Tonight
was great, Showcase is a great place to view art, meet people and introduce
yourself to a few new names, a chance see the work there big and bold (or
small and delicate) with the colours the way they really are. Showcase
is great, get along to the next one... Showcase
webpage

WEASEL
WALTER, PIRATES and... Saturday, here we go, for those of you that
may have missed the great news, The Observer has been
saved,
there’s some graffiti porcelain over here,
“Russia's Roman Abramovich has quietly added a $90 million estate in St.
Bart's to his global toy chest, which already includes a Cap d'Antibes
chateau, an English soccer team and one of the world's largest yachts".
Tomorrow is International Talk Like A Pirate Day, this new Buckcherry
single
is an OK slice of throwaway glam pop-metal but haven’t Aerosmith already
released Love In An Elevator? “His newest boat, called Eclipse, exceeds
540 feet and is in the final stages of construction by German ship builder
Blohm & Voss. Yacht builders say Eclipse has two helipads, a swimming
pool, bulletproof glass, a steam room and a personal submarine. The boat
cost an estimated $300 million or more to build. The ship, the world's
biggest private yacht, recently started its sea trials off Hamburg and
is expected to be delivered to Mr. Abramovich late this year or early next
year" while
WEASEL WALTER, he of the legendary Flying Luttenbachers
has another in his series of podcasts ready for you to download... New
podcast available at ugEXPLODE.com:
Luther Thomas tribute with Black Randy and the Metrosquad, Vinny Golia/Weasel
Walter and more...x

8th
Sept '09: NEWS: LONDON
GIG GUIDE... London needs a decent informative alternative gig guide,
several people have tried to get something going, takes a lot of time and
effort though, takes venues and bands and promoters supporting and interacting
and making things work, needs to be free of all the pub rock clutter, the
tribute bands... we need a focussed uncluttered alternative... Latest valiant
attempt comes from the London Gigs team, and so far so good. Early days
and the website is only just getting off the ground, a decent gig guide
is needed badly and this looks early days good... it will only flourish
if people get behind it, make it work people, we need it, support it...
www.londongigs.netxLIVE:
MOBY
– Rough Trade Shop, Brick Lane, East London, Sept 6th - “..but the
concert was I think the best Moby concert I've been to. I was expecting
it to be all acoustic and low key but it was actually quite kicking, well
a weird mix between intimate melancholy melodies and pumping drumming charging
tunes...he did a few tracks from Play which was great and the two female
singers were quite amazing, such a powerful voice and presence I've actually
never seen a British audience get quite so into the music and dance like
that before, it was a great vibe and it was brilliant to be up so close
and really feel it, it was quite affecting.. Needless to say I didn't go
to work today...” (Emma) x

22nd
AUG '09: PAUL NORMANSELL @ Wanted Gallery, Portobello, London

Modern,
fresh looking, fresh feeling pop art, you don’t really get the art of Paul
Normansell in any kind of serious way until you’re stood there in front
of it – well that goes for most art/artists really, stating the bleedin’
obvious or what! Particularly important that you see the current work of
Paul Normansell in the flesh though, you’re really not going to get the
power or the colour from his CD covers or from photos... You’ll maybe know
him from his recent cover work for The Killers. The work on show here is
striking, rather original, and just different - stylish pop art in the
most real of senses. Big pieces, a fascinating combination of gloss and
enamel on aluminium that makes perfect sense when you stand in front of
it and drink in the brightness – you’re really not going to get it from
looking atwebsites, photos or CD covers (as good as that recent Killers
CD artwork is), you really need to stand in front of Paul Normansell’s
rather expansive work and just really enjoy it. There’s two floors of work
in a small shop-sized gallery, about half a dozen rather big bold colourful
pieces. The show ends on 23rd August, all work already sold so it
seems – you’ll find it all, if you’re quick, at 15b Blenheim Crescent,
Notting Hill, W11 – www.agallery.co.uk
- Go look today if you’re in the area, Mick Jones from the Clash is
playing a free gig at his Rock ‘n Roll library, just down the road at 5.00pm.
The Rock & Roll Public Library is open free of charge Wednesday to
Sunday from 11am until 7pm; until August 23rd. 2 Acklam Road, above
272 Portobello Road, London, W10...Ladbroke Grove tube. x

DIY
LONDON SEEN - Covent Garden, London, 20th Aug -

Tonight we’re heading for
yet another closed down shop, another shop taken over, on a temporary basis,
in the name of art... Tonight, right in the middle of Covent Garden, in
the tourist trap of a plaza, and probably not the first place you’d go
looking for DIY street art or the smell of underground alternative culture,
we’re in search of the opening of an exhibition called DIY London Seen.
Work inspired by the artists featured in Aaron Rose’s new film Beautiful
Losers apparently... The film is out on DVD this week and currently
enjoying a run at the ICA, so this is some kind of tie-in semi-launch -
there’s a ‘marketing’ budget, entry by invite, food to eat and bottles
of that pear cider to suck on, while the art is viewed...
The film itself (not being shown tonight) is inspiring, the film is important,
the film is exciting, it should kick off the idea of just doing it yourself
in the heads of many who never before really though they could... The film
is essentially documenting something that’s been going on all over the
world for years (and years) – something that really germinated back there
with the second wave of punk rock. The wave that really was about doing
it yourself and seven inch records in hand made covers, of making your
own zines, putting on your own gigs, taking control and the possibilities,
ideas that extended well beyond just the music... That real DIY street
culture, birthed at the end of the 70’s with the coming together of street
graffiti, skateboard culture and punk rock - that ever expanding thing
that was alive with energy, excitement, cross-pollination and feeding off
each others ideas - something that’s been evolving and regenerating for
years now – and all there, documented in the film, and none of that is
really to be found in this rather polite and starkly white downstairs shop-turned-into-gallery
tonight...

There is some good art here, couple of really good pieces – this isn’t
really the DIY culture we’ve been familiar with for the last twenty plus
years though, this isn’t the hand-painted zines talked of in the film,
this isn’t skateboard pits or graffiti, or doing it yourself because the
gallery system is an alien concept you never even thought of approaching...
This isn’t primitive art jumping off squat venue walls, warehouse gigs,
this isn’t punk rock inspired do it yourself creativity. This isn’t expansive
canvas alive with spray-painted energy, this is isn’t giant chess sets
in the middle of Claremont Road or the acid junkyard sculpture of Skreech
Rock. No giant pink windmills made of street-scrap, no Cheap Essential
Scenery painted on sails here... None of the craft of those Bristol street
artists like Milk or Dora who were over at Oblong with their Great Birds
show the other week... No hint of Montana Gold, no spray paint allowed
by the looks of things... Nah.
There’s some good art in here, this isn’t really DIY culture though, this
isn’t about ignoring the rules or doing it yourself - but there is good
art in here...

What this is, is a semi-corporate launch for a film that’s kind of missed
the point of the film, an artistically polite show in a far too polite
gallery with polite food and free drink and yes, some rather decent small
pieces of pop art flavoured graphic design, some decent bits of illustration,
photography and some rather good pieces of individual artistic expression.
Some of it kind of feels like the work of half way through term design
students rather than the street artists, punk-driven creators, skate-culture
painters and such that you’ll find in the film... Some of it is genuinely
rather good. X

Yes, there is some good art in here, it is important to repeat that, and
the fact that the Watch This Space team have enthusiastically pulled it
together and found an empty shop and gathered it all in one place is to
be celebrated – twenty or so interesting (young, we assume) artists getting
a chance to get some work out there is what this is - and that is enough,
that should be celebrated.

There is some good work here,
well worth a visit, just don’t be expecting the energy or danger that Beautiful
Losers should inspire, don’t be expecting real DIY culture. The fact
that some of the artists have been found via a last minute competition,
(insisted on by the film company so the Watch This Space curators say)
and run on bloody My Space – the ultimate in none-DIY corporate marketing
crapola – kind of tells you some of where we’re at here... The fact that
the most interesting artist tonight, and the nearest thing to some kind
of idea of street culture, Keiron Lee (AKA XXXXXX) and his play on
Frank Shepard Fairey’s Andre The Giant Has A Posse, has come through
that My Space route suggests that no one really went out and connected
with any of the real UK street artists or went out to find the real DIY
art culture that is out there...
Street art? DIY attitudes? Alternatives? It really should be alive with
energy and excitement in here tonight – it is in the film - the joy of
the creativity, alternative communication, the attitudes, the sense of
just getting out there and doing it - joining in, togetherness, defiance,
rule-ignoring unity... Oh I really don’t like sounding like I’m down on
this show, there is some good art – Robin Clare’s mix of 50’s futurist
white goods and pop-art graphics, Harry Malt and his cartoonish Just Don’t
Try To Talk To Jim Morrison piece (good to see GG Allin and John Cooper
Clark there – a bit of punk rock after all then), the giant mirror bear
sculpture of Arran Gregory brings a smile, Best One... A collection
of painters, illustrators, photographers and such, all worthy of the time
and space, but this really isn’t the street culture or DIY or anything
like the energy to be found in the film, this isn’t what we hoped to find,
not what we expected... Go enjoy the show for what it is, twenty
relatively new British artists, photographers, illustrators and such showing
some healthy new work in a closed down shop in the middle of town......